


Extracurricular Activities

by Fantine_Black



Series: With or Without You [1]
Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Assault, Blackmail, Blindfolds, Charles Being Concerned, Charles Getting Uncomfortable, Charles loves Moira, Deutsch | German, Dirty Talk, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Erik Logic Is The Best Logic, Erik is a Stalker, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Healthy Relationships, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, M/M, Magneto Being Creepy, Masturbation, Non-Consensual Bondage, Oxford, Poor Charles, Power Imbalance, Professor Erik, Prompt Fill, Psychology, Relationship Negotiation, Sexual Fantasy, Shame, Smitten Erik, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Threats of Violence, Tutoring, Unhealthy Relationships, United Kingdom, Voyeurism, X-Men First Class Kink Meme, X-Men: First Class References, Yiddish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-05-05
Packaged: 2018-03-20 06:55:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3640935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fantine_Black/pseuds/Fantine_Black
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the following prompt:</p><p> </p><p>  <em>Charles does well in Erik's class and isn't particularly attracted to his teacher or males.</em></p><p> </p><p>  <em>Erik is helplessly attracted to Charles, his intelligence, his kindness, his looks. He struggles hard with himself but finally calls Charles to his office and threatens to mark down his work if Charles doesn't submit to Erik.</em></p><p> </p><p>  <em>Charles isn't completely without options. But the thing is, any of these actions will unavoidably cost Erik his reputation and job. Despite what he is asking of Charles, Charles still greatly respects Erik as a good though strict teacher and doesn't want to ruin his life. </em></p><p> </p><p>So when Erik won't budge after Charles tries to talk his way out, Charles gives in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Charles

**Author's Note:**

> I was well into writing this when I realised that the story was most likely supposed to take place in a school rather than a college setting. By that time, however, I was too much in love with having Charles address Erik as 'Professor'. And of course, professors have private offices...

'Mr Xavier, see me after class, please.’

Both Charles and Moira looked up in surprise. Professor Lehnsherr was notoriously difficult to get hold of. He kept to his office hours religiously, and only granted appointments after pre-approving written requests.

‘Er – yes… certainly, Professor.’

Moira stifled a laugh. ‘”Certainly, Professor,”’ she mouthed at him, and Charles felt himself blush. ‘Shut up.’ Moira always teased him if he got too formal. Six years of public school in England could do that to a person. It was hard switching from capping teachers to the relative joviality of Columbia.

It was also one of the reasons he enjoyed Professor Lehnsherr’s class. Although in England he would have scoffed at the notion of having something in common with a German, here in the US he had noted there was such a thing as Europeanness. (Even when he struggled to define what this consisted of, other than a lack of optimism, a love of football – he could never call it soccer - and an obsession with class.)

Only then he noted Raven’s furious scowl. ‘Excuse me, Professor,’ he said. ‘I am terribly sorry, but I can’t stay today.’

‘Why not?’ Lehnsherr said. ‘You don’t have another lecture after this one.’

 _How the hell does he know?_ Charles thought, but he said: ‘That’s true, but I promised to help my sister prep for her presentation.’

‘And when is your presentation, Miss Darkholme?’ Erik said to Raven.

‘In three hours, Professor,’ she said, in a subdued voice.

‘In that case, you cannot hope to reap much benefit from the experience,’ he said curtly. ‘I suggest you use the hour to relax.’

Raven gave him an incredulous look, then looked to Charles, who shrugged his shoulders in a rather hopeless gesture.

Charles found it hard to concentrate on Jungian psychology after that. He had no idea why he had been summoned, but he did relish the opportunity of an actual private conversation with the professor. Their communications outside of the classroom had been exclusively written. In fact, Charles would go so far as to think the professor had been avoiding him.

Not now, though. During the discussion of the text, Lehnsherr looked over to him more than once, even though Charles was not actually taking part in the discussion. It made him slightly uncomfortable. Moira grabbed his hand under the table. ‘He won’t bite, sweetheart,’ she whispered. But Lehnsherr had seen even that. ‘Miss MacTaggert,’ he said, ‘please paraphrase the most important challenges to hitherto established psychoanalytical theory Jung poses in this article.’ He wore a rather self-satisfied smirk when Moira had to bluster herself out of that one.

When the hour ended, though, the professor hardly looked at Charles. ‘Meet me in my office in fifteen minutes,’ he said, before stalking off.

Charles took the opportunity to hug Raven tightly. ‘You will be exquisite,’ he said to her. It did nothing to change Raven’s skin tone, now decidely greenish. ‘That asshole professor,’ she hissed.

Charles smiled. ‘Go get them, tiger.’ Then he walked over to Moira, and impulsively, kissed her full on the lips.

She blinked. ‘Wow, you’re coming on strong today.’

‘I really needed to do that.’

She pecked him on the cheek. ‘Call me tonight.’

He smiled as he watched her go, but then realised he still had almost ten minutes to kill. He thumbed through Jung’s article, but then decided he was better off moving. He could always pass the time by trying to get a kind word out of professor Lehnsherr’s assistant Emma.

When he arrived at Lehnsherr’s door, however, Emma was nowhere in sight. Odd. Lehnsherr had a reputation for being uncharacteristically demanding, and Emma was usually hot on his heels.

Nevertheless, he waited the exact seven and a half minutes before knocking.

‘Come in.’

The first impression of the room wasn’t untypical. A desk with a Dictaphone, ashtray and typewriter, surrounded by numerous bookshelves, a few reproductions on the wall. No family photos, Charles noticed. No dust, either, which he had previously considered an impossibility, considering the amount of books that usually occupied a space such as this. But all the books were organised; all papers neatly tucked away in folders. Even the ashtray was gleaming.

The room was bathed in a soft light – professor Lehnsherr had drawn the blinds. He’d changed, too. Instead of a suit and tie, he was now wearing a black turtleneck. It made him look younger, more energetic. He stood up. ‘There you are,’ he said, smiling. ‘Sit down.’

Charles shut the door and took a seat opposite him. It was strange, the way the professor kept looking at him; seizing him up and smiling to himself. ‘Would you like some tea? I’ve bought Earl Grey.’

‘Alright,’ Charles said. Did he sound that English? He blinked as the professor poured two steaming mugs. At least he did not offer milk and sugar – that would have been frightening, given his location. But the tea was halfway decent, and it relaxed him somewhat.

‘Mr. Xavier,’ the professor said. Then he stopped and bit his lip. ‘Charles. May I call you Charles?’

‘Yes,’ he said, although he really wasn’t sure about that. ‘Yes, that’s fine, Professor.’

‘Erik, please,’ he said, smiling again.

‘Erik.’ This felt completely wrong.

‘Well then, Charles. I’ve noticed you are very interested in the topic of obedience.’

Again, that smile. Charles shifted in his seat. ‘Yes, one could put it like that, I suppose.’

‘I would certainly put it like that,’ Lehnsherr said. ‘You’ve written about the Milgram experiment more than once.’

Well, yes – because it had created the exact opposite circumstances from those he wanted to see in the world. Had he not been clear about that in his essays?

He cleared his throat. ‘Yes, obedience is certainly a topic that interests me,’ he said, ‘or, more exactly, the point where obedience gets problematic.’

‘I’m not surprised.’ Lehnsherr opened a drawer and took out a paper. Charles recognised the binding as his own. ‘Charles,you present me with a problem. And you have for quite some time.’

‘A problem, sir?’

‘Erik.’

Charles nodded.

‘Yes, Charles.’ He stared at him again. Charles started looking for something interesting on the ceiling. But he snapped back when the professor said:

‘Unofficially speaking, your ideas are brilliant. Truly brilliant. But you have a habit of flaunting class conventions.’

Charles bit his lip. It was true – he would often try to bend the rules by enhancing his essays with copious footnotes or several appendixes. After all, why would he let all the fascinating information he invariably came across go to waste? Yet as Lehnsherr thumbed through the essay, his face showed mostly disapproval.

‘You’ve been wasting my time, Charles.’ He slammed the essay on his desk. ‘And thereby the University’s, too. I’m paid to do my research, not amuse myself with yours.’

Charles swallowed. ‘I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.’

‘It has happened far too often already.’ Lehnherr cleared his throat. ‘I’m sorry, Charles. You are failing my class.’

Charles sucked in a breath. ‘What?’

Lehnsherr only looked at him with an unreadable expression. Charles narrowed his eyes. ‘You’ve not failed me once during this term,’ he said. ‘You can’t change your mind without a valid reason.’

‘But I have a valid reason,’ Lehnsherr said. ‘You were aware of these rules, Charles, or at the very least could have been. I’d be completely within my rights to fail you.’

Charles took a deep breath and pushed his chair back. ‘Well. Thank you for taking the time to tell me this in person, Professor. But you do realise I shall have to take this up with the faculty.’

‘Sit down, Charles.’ There suddenly was an edge in Lehnsherr’s voice. It was as if the professor had completely disappeared. Instead, Charles found himself looking at a stronger man, faster, too, and, instinct told him, very possibly aggressive. He lowered himself back onto the chair.

Lehnsherr smiled. ‘Thank you.’ He took a sip of tea. ‘I know you have every right to fight my decision, but you would be shooting yourself in the foot in more ways than one.’ He put down his mug, stood up, walked around the desk, and perched himself on the edge. ‘You would not only lose months of your life trying to get a new grade, but you would also make yourself an enemy within the faculty.’

Charles leant back. ‘Why? What’s it to you?’

‘You’d be making my life more complicated. I’m only pointing out that I could do the same to you.’

Charles furrowed his brow. ‘You are threatening me,’ he said, in an incredulous tone.

‘I’m merely suggesting that you don’t make your life more difficult than it needs to be.’

 _You’re making my life more difficult than it needs to be_ , Charles thought, but held his tongue. Instead he said: ‘Fine. I’ll drop your class. But how this could possibly benefit either of us is beyond me.’

‘I’m not suggesting you drop my class, Charles.’

‘Then what are you suggesting, Professor?’ Lehnsherr clenched his jaw, so he corrected himself. ‘Erik.’

Erik smiled. ‘Good.’ He took another sip of tea. ‘I called you in here to make you an offer. I want us to explore your favorite topic, Charles. And as a reward, you will become my new assistant.'

‘Explore my favourite topic?’ Charles said. ‘What the fuck are you implying?’

Lehnsherr chuckled. ‘Charles, don’t be naïve.’ Charles tried to stand, but Lehnsherr pushed him back down. ‘I want you,’ he whispered. ‘Not only your mind.’

Charles felt every muscle in his body tense, but he forced himself to remain calm. ‘Was this how Emma got the gig?’

‘Certainly not.’ Lehnsherr let go of his shoulders and straightened back up. ‘Emma is a very good student. But you could be better.’ He looked him up and down once more. ‘I’m not going to go easy on you, Charles. Whatever the circumstances, I expect your very best work.’

Charles laughed. ‘This is unbelievable.’ He pushed his chair back and stood up. ‘You’re playing with fire, here, you know. If I file a formal complaint…’

Erik laughed. ‘Please do. Just remember that you aren’t the first disgruntled student trying to slander a professor.’

‘It’s not slander when it’s true.’ He stared into the other man’s eyes. ‘Besides, I am not just any student. My mother is Sharon Xavier. One of the chief benefactors of this institution and married to professor Kurt Marko. He’s highly regarded here, asshole though he may be.’ Charles smiled. ‘I could have you out of a job within weeks.’

Erik smiled back. ‘Now you’re just being a brat.’

Charles raised his eyebrows. ‘I could have you suspended. Does that mean nothing to you?’

Erik shrugged. ‘What you’re suggesting wouldn’t do you any favours either, Charles. Academia is a small world, and no one likes entitled little shits who throw their weight around to get our colleagues fired.’

Charles took a few steps back. ‘Why are you doing this? If you want a new assistant, you could have just offered me the job. An hour ago I would have jumped at the chance.’

Sadness washed over Erik’s face. ‘And you would have run away as soon as I made my intentions clear.’ He stood up too. ‘Consider, Charles. The arrangement I’m offering – it will be an exchange. I will give far more than I ask. And I can give you things no one else will – both academically and otherwise.’

Charles sniffed. ‘If you want a rent boy, I suggest you contact one.’

Erik frowned. ‘Damn it, Charles, I don’t want you for a fuck toy. I’m offering to be your mentor, both in your studies and in your life.’ He took a few steps closer. ‘I don’t have to tell you what a position as my assistant will mean for your career. But I won’t stop there, Charles. I will tutor you in any subject you wish. If you apply yourself, I’ll introduce you to my personal research. We could be co-authors one day.’

Charles’ mouth twisted. ‘And if I refuse – ’

‘As you’ve said, that wouldn’t benefit either of us.’

As Charles looked at Erik, he felt extremely sad. He should leave, of course - drop the class or fight for a fair grade. But he had no doubt having Lehnsherr for an adversary might impact his life at Columbia in no small way. The logical thing, then, was to have Lehnsherr removed from Columbia, even put behind bars. But by doing that the faculty would also lose a brilliant scholar and good teacher, and he, Charles, would not have the benefit of his experience. Which promised to be extensive.

 _I can stop this at any time_ , he promised himself. _Any time at all._

He swallowed. ‘What do you want me to do?’

Erik grinned. ‘Come here.’

Very slowly, Charles moved back towards the other man. Erik reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind his ear.

‘Has anybody ever told you how beautiful you are?’

 _Moira_ , Charles thought, and then turned his head away. ‘I don’t…’

‘Shhh,’ Erik said, as he put his hand on Charles’ cheek. ‘We’ll take this slow.’ He put an arm around Charles’ shoulder and led him back to the chair. ‘I won’t touch you, Charles,’ he said. ‘Today, I want to watch.’

Charles looked up at him. ‘Watch what?’ he said softly.

Erik grinned. ‘I want to watch you cum.’

Charles frowned. ‘Right. Well, I’m sorry. I’m not going to stand here with my pants around my ankles…’

Erik shook his head. ‘No need for that.’ He pointed at Charles chair. ‘Sit there and touch yourself. Cover yourself with your jacket if you have to. Just make sure I see your face.’ When Charles didn’t move, he walked over to his desk drawer and took out a packet of tissues.

Charles took them hesitantly. Lehnsherr sighed.

‘Today, please, Charles. I have lectures to prepare.’

Charles took off his jacket and sat down. He carefully draped it over his knees, but still felt awkward pushing down his trousers, which he lowered just enough. Then he took a tissue. Lehnsherr was staring at him again. His eyes had a feverish look.

‘Lick your fingers,’ he whispered.

‘What?’

‘Lick your fingers,’ Lehnsherr said. ‘Against the chafing.’

‘Look, I know how to jerk off, OK?’ Charles snapped.

‘Get on with it, then,’ Erik said calmly. ‘And do as I said.’

Reluctantly, Charles put two fingers in his mouth. Erik inhaled sharply.

‘Slowly.’

Charles rolled his eyes, but pulled his fingers out of his mouth as slowly as he could. The soft popping sound that escaped his lips when he pulled his fingers back made Lehnsherr jerk. ‘Perfect,’ he said. ‘Those lips were made for sucking. They should not be allowed to do anything else.’

Charles lowered his eyes. He grabbed his cock and started stroking with fast, angry movements. It felt like a betrayal when he felt himself grow hard.

‘Close your eyes,’ he heard Erik whisper. ‘It’s just you here, Charles. You and whoever you need to feel good.’

 _Moira_ , he thought again. It would be so much easier if she were with him. Her soft hands, half stroking, half teasing. The way she would look up at him, a twinkle in her eye, her small breasts heaving as she touched him. She would put a hand on his leg, near his groin, assuring him that she was here, and all was well.

He grunted as he imagined how she’d stop to take off her knickers, kiss him as she took away that stupid jacket, and drape her legs over the chair. She wouldn’t lose eye contact as she slid his cock inside, her hands on his arms as he cradled her midriff. He’d feel her hips rocking as he held her gaze, her warm wetness engulfing him; she’d moan his name as he thrust into her, to that place where the world would fall safely away.

He came with a cry and felt himself spurt into his hands. One moment of oblivion he sat with his eyes closed, but then he saw Lehnsherr, standing at the edge of his desk, a mere two feet away, transfixed to the spot.

‘Exceptional,’ he panted. ‘Absolutely exceptional.’

Charles felt as if he was being buried alive. He grabbed a tissue to wipe at his hands, his groin; he didn’t think he’d ever rearranged his clothes so quickly. He pushed back the chair and darted for his things; nothing mattered but getting out of there, that awful room, away from Erik’s wolfish gaze. But Erik grabbed his shoulder and held him still.

‘Charles.’ The older man’s gaze was strangely sympathetic.

‘You will meet me here tomorrow at four to discuss your latest essay. Your work has merit, but there is much room for improvement.’

‘I have – ’ Charles started, but Erik shook his head.

‘You don’t have a lecture. I checked in advance.’

‘A doctor’s appointment,’ Charles fibbed angrily.

‘You will have to reschedule that,’ Erik said. ‘We’ll discuss your new timetable tomorrow.’ When he saw Charles look, he said: ‘I’ll do my very best to accommodate you, Charles. There is no reason for you to give up your life.’

‘Thank you, Professor.’

‘Erik,’ he said softly.

Charles clenched his jaw and darted for his bag. He said nothing as he walked out of the door and headed straight for the nearest men’s room.

 _Any bloody time_ , he thought, splashing water into his face.

But the face that stared back was a stranger’s. What he’d done could not be undone, and he felt as if he’d let his whole life spin out of control.

That night, with Moira’s calm breathing beside him, he wept.

_*_


	2. Erik

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find a translation of the German words at the end. I promise you that Google translate was not in any way involved.

Charles was being difficult.

‘If I had wanted to study German philology, I would have chosen a different major!’

Erik felt something tighten in his chest. ‘How can you presume to know anything about psychology if you can’t even interpret the sources on which its theories are based?’

‘It’s called “reading a translation”,’ Charles said. ‘You should look into it sometimes.’

Erik snatched the copy of _Also sprach Zarathustra_ from Charles’ hands and held it in front of his face. ‘No English translation can even hope to convey the full meaning of the ideas in this book,’ he growled. When Charles didn’t comment, he said: ‘For God’s sake, Charles, these aren’t recipes!’

‘I wish they were!’ Charles shot back. ‘Learning German by reading Nietzsche is – ’

‘Pointless, if you’re still mispronouncing his name. It’s Nietz _-_ SCHe _. Knee CHah.’_ Erik sighed and closed his eyes. ‘Repeat after me: _Meine schöne Schwester trägt schwarze_ _Schuhe…’_

‘ _My_ – Christ, Raven doesn’t even like black shoes!’

When Charles saw Erik’s face, he looked away.

‘Sorry. Bad pun.’

Erik pushed the book back to Charles. ‘Put your things away, then.’ Charles made an involuntary movement, but Erik said, ‘We don’t want to get food on them, Charles.’

Charles nodded and started gathering his books and papers. Erik stood up and walked to the other side of the table. Looking down on Charles’ bowed head, he said: ‘You know how I feel about you wasting my time.’

Charles froze mid-movement. After a short silence he said: ‘Yes.’

‘Learning to speak German will help your career. Not all groundbreaking research is published in English.’

‘I know, Professor.’

‘Then why the long face?’

There was a very calculated silence as Charles sat back up. ‘I don’t know,’ he said eventually. ‘I had a bad day.’

Erik smiled. ‘Then let’s make it better.’

He hooked his arms under Charles’ shoulders, softly lifted him up and then turned him around to face him. _Too long, it’s been too long,_ he thought, and crawled his fingers through Charles’ hair. Charles held very still, the expression in his blue eyes unreadable. But slowly, as on instinct, he tilted his head to the side. The sight of those glistening red lips was maddening, and Erik kissed them, savouring the feel of their softness against his skin.

At first, Charles tensed up, as he always did, but Erik kept working, drawing slow circles around his tongue and sucking on his bottom lip. At long last Charles began to respond, opening his mouth and even sucking him in deeper. Then, with a sudden movement, he pushed Erik against the wall. Now kissing violently, he began to tug at Erik’s belt, his shirt, his fly; he put his hands on Erik’s hips and dropped to his knees –

‘Stop this right now!’ Erik spat.

Charles’ head snapped up. Slowly, he got to his feet.

Erik narrowed his eyes. ‘Mr. Xavier,’ he said, ‘I’ve spent days drawing up your lesson plan for this term. I made sure it wasn’t going to interfere with your lectures, your job or your vacations. I’ve arranged to introduce you to colleagues from both Harvard and Brown, even Oxford and Vienna. You’ve repaid me by sulking.’ He placed his hands on Charles’ buttocks. ‘A quick blow job is not going to cut it.’

Charles took a step back. ‘Professor…’

Erik turned him around and pushed his groin against Charles’ ass. ‘Don’t be like that,’ he whispered, burying his face in Charles’ neck. ‘It’s going to feel good for you, too.’

Charles hunched his shoulders and turned his head away. ‘Please,’ he whispered.

Erik laughed and slapped Charles’ left buttock. ‘Go prep.’  

But when he saw Charles go he felt a pang of hesitation. He shook his head. If only vacations weren’t so disruptive. After a longer absence, Charles always became aloof and reluctant.

He blew out the candles and loaded the dishes on a tray, then walked to his small kitchen.

He smirked as he listened to the sounds of Charles moving around in his bedroom. The amount of effort it had taken him to even get him there! That first term, when he hadn’t had much more than that fickle threat binding Charles to him, the most he could hope for were a few sloppy handjobs.

But the longer their arrangement continued, the more Charles had started to excel. Just as Erik had suspected, Charles had been held back by his good fortune. Pretty boys with oodles of charm hardly ever had occasion to work hard; rich pretty boys with sharp brains were beyond saving. Charles was already a hard drinking party boy when Erik had first met him, and when he’d thought of him at all, it was with disdain.

But he felt his eye lingering on the boy more often, as he noticed his enthusiasm, felt himself grinning at his rambling papers, and saw the care Charles showed his sister Raven. Soon he felt himself endeared by the boy’s floppy hair, idiotic glasses and red, moist lips, and it wasn’t much longer before he helplessly imagined what those lips would feel like wrapped around his cock.

So he’d set to work, teaching Charles to work and study, challenging him wherever he could. He made Charles show him all the assignments he’d ever completed, so he could point out which professors had gone soft on him – because of course more than a few had. He sat Charles down to endless debates on various subjects or made him review published papers himself, to find out what shortcuts he should avoid. He even started assigning him chess problems to rack his brains just for the sake of it.

And as the sessions continued, Charles’ attitude began to change. Where he had first denied him almost any touch, he soon grudgingly allowed to be kissed. Erik quickly found out that he was generally more agreeable after he had been challenged, and after a couple of grueling sessions he saw his highest hopes confirmed: Charles was, indeed, an _excellent_ cocksucker.

When he walked back to clear the last dishes from the table, he noticed that Charles had gone quiet. He smiled to himself. All ready, then. Still, he’d give him a couple of minutes to calm down. He really didn’t feel like having sex with Charles if he was openly resentful.

But when he finally went into his bedroom, Charles was still lying with his back to him, legs curled up in a fetal position.

Christ, this was getting ridiculous. Who was he, Charles’ manservant? He had three articles to finish, _verdammt noch mal!_

‘I really don’t deserve this, you know,’ he said, stepping out of his shoes and taking off his sweater. Charles ignored him as he removed the rest of his clothes and hung them in his closet. Neither did he move when Erik sat down next to him, so he was forced to grab his shoulder. ‘ _Charles._ Why the silent treatment?’

Charles took a deep breath, then turned. ‘I’d really hoped to just study tonight,’ he said. ‘Professor.’

Erik sighed. ‘And I’d really hoped to have a decent conversation about Nietzsche. So I guess we’re both out of luck.’

Charles sat up. ‘We can talk about Nietzsche…’

Erik closed his eyes. ‘Pass me the lube,’ he said.

Charles lifted his chin. ‘Doesn’t it matter at all what I want?’

Erik clenched a fist. ‘Of course it does. You want to be a scholar. And thanks to me, you’re well on your way to becoming one.’

Charles buried his face in his hands. ‘That’s not what I meant…’

‘Damn it, Charles, you act as if I’m planning to hurt you,’ Erik said. ‘Tell me – when have I ever done that?’

Charles shrugged.

‘Then pass the goddamn lube!’

Charles reached for the jar of petroleum jelly on the nightstand. He gave it to Erik without looking at him.

Erik sighed and put the jar away. Instead, he put an arm around Charles’ shoulder.

‘You will enjoy this, you know. If you only let yourself.’

With that, he kissed him, hugging Charles’ shivering frame close. With his other hand, he removed the blanket, and soon he had Charles settled on his lap. He kissed Charles again, pushing his tongue in deeply, and fumbled around for the jar of lube. Reluctantly, he pulled his head back, opened the jar and slicked up his fingers. He felt Charles tense. 'Relax,' he said, starting to massage the muscles near his neck, though he wasn't entirely sure whom he was addressing. Charles' scent made him feel so lightheaded it was hard to stay sane.

When Charles finally let his shoulders drop, he trailed his hands downwards, to the small of his back. The feel of Charles squirming around on his lap was almost unbearable, but he braced himself and started massaging Charles’ cock. ‘That’s it,’ he chuckled as he felt Charles’ cock grow hard, ‘that’s just it,’ as he softly circled Charles’ already slickened ass with his other hand.

Charles had closed his eyes. In spite of himself, Erik was sure, he’d started jerking his hips. Erik smiled. He took Charles’ hand and placed it on the boy's cock, slicked his own fingers up once more and dipped them between Charles’ cheeks. A high-pitched sound escaped Charles as he started massaging the sensitive skin below his balls. Suddenly, Charles bucked, and Erik could wait no longer. He spread Charles’ cheeks and pushed the tip of his penis inside.

Charles clenched, which made Erik see stars, but then he became completely still. Erik kissed his neck. ‘Go on,’ he whispered, ‘come on,’ and reached forward to rub the tip of Charles cock, already glistening with precum. Charles jerked again, pushing himself deeper, and soon they were rocking, Charles’ cock thrusting into Erik’s hand. ‘Yes,’ Erik panted, as he pushed into Charles, ‘like that, _genau…_ ' He kept moaning as Charles' movements became increasingly more desperate. When he finally felt Charles shudder and spurt all over his hand he couldn’t take it any longer. He pushed Charles sideways onto the bed, crawled to his knees, pulled up Charles’ hips and fucked into him, again and again and again, until his orgasm made him collapse on the bed, Charles’ warm body beneath him.

He stayed there a while, spent, euphoric, before he rolled onto his back. After a few blissful moments, he reached over for Charles. ‘That was…’

But Charles had left the bed and was wrapping himself into Erik’s black bathrobe. He pulled the belt tightly before walking unsurely towards the door.

‘Where are you going?’

‘I need a drink,’ Charles mumbled.

Erik pushed himself up. ‘Wait, let me – ’

Charles whipped around. ‘Fuck off, why don’t you?!’ Then he started laughing. ‘Fuck, fuckatty fuck fuck fuck…’

Erik sighed. I’ll get you that drink.’

But Charles had already walked back into the living room. When Erik found him there he was drinking scotch straight from the bottle. At the sound of Erik's footsteps, he turned around to face him.

‘Tell me, Professor,’ he said, 'how many credits does one get for an hour of whoring? By now, I think I’ve earned myself a minor in prostitution.’

Erik frowned. ‘To the Ancients, sex was part of any meaningful education.’

Charles smiled. ‘Aha! We’re doing this for science!’ He took another swig, then put down the bottle and whiped his mouth on his sleeve. 'That's a relief. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Professor, I have to go flush your spunk out of my arse.’

Erik watched him go without a word. He stared at the door for a long time before he, too, poured himself a scotch. He took a few sips, then got back to his bedroom and took out fresh clothes. He dressed quickly before scooping up the pile of Charles' clothes and carrying them to his bathroom.

Inside, the shower was still running. Clouds of steam were seeping out from under the door.

He knocked. 'Charles?'

There was no answer. The running of the water didn't stop. Erik tried the door handle. 'Charles, are you OK?'

When he heard no reply, Erik put down the clothes and bashed at the wood with all his might.

'Charles! Answer me or I will kick down this door!'

The water was switched off, and he finally heard Charles stumble around the bathroom. 'What do you want?'

Erik let out a breath. 'Your clothes are outside.' After one more quiet moment, he went to the kitchen and angrily busied himself with the dishes.

It took a very long time, but eventually he heard Charles walk into the living room. He didn’t slow down, though, and Erik had to run to catch him before he'd reached the front door.

He almost wished he hadn't. Charles’ face looked sunken in, and there was a muscle twisting near the corner of his mouth.

'Yes?'

Erik pulled back his shoulders. 'I'm very busy this coming term,' he said, his voice trembling slightly. 'I'm afraid I won't have much time to tutor you.'

Charles raised his eyebrows. 'OK.’

'Not for several weeks, at least.'

'I understand, Professor.' He said nothing, but kept staring at Erik with that empty, hollow look in his eyes.

Erik tensed. 'Don’t forget to pick up the books I ordered,' he said finally. 'And make sure next week's slides are prepared.'

He didn't wait for Charles' reply, but turned around and walked back to his bedroom.

That night he slept fitfully, with Charles' pillow in his arms.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Also sprach Zarathustra ___: Thus Spoke Zarathustra
> 
>  
> 
> _Meine schöne Schwester trägt schwarze Schuhe_ : My beautiful sister wears/is wearing black shoes. A tongue twister to practise the "sch" sound.
> 
>  
> 
> _Verdammt (noch mal)_ : Damn (it)! etc., General expression of anger, frustration and/or annoyance.
> 
>  
> 
> _Genau_ : Precise(ly)


	3. Tough Love

The next weeks were uneventful. Charles kept fulfilling his duties, but spent most of his time in the library. Erik, too mostly kept to his books. He hadn’t realised how badly he had neglected most of his other tasks; any time not spent on research he was forced to plough through a never-shrinking pile of appointment requests.

To his surprise, several requests came from Raven. Erik had no idea what she wanted with him. She was an unremarkable student; thorough, not brilliant, and he couldn’t remember a single word she’d ever said.

When he finally saw her, though, the mystery lifted. Raven had no more desire to study psychoanalysis than to claw her own eyes out. She was going through motions, probably Charles’s, and she was fooling no one at all.

Erik was surprised that he cared. Yet he could not help but _get_ Raven, a feral, wounded little lynx posing as a housecat. This was a girl desperately trying to forget that all love was conditional and everybody was alone.

Still, he had no use for her academically and did not believe in softening blows. ‘If it takes your best effort to produce work as bland as this, you’re not doing what you should be doing,’ he said, not even giving her time to remove her coat. At her shocked look, he added: ‘Just pointing out something that will save you years of your life.’

She’d left his office in tears, but Erik wasn’t worried. Unsurprisingly, Charles was.

‘What did you say to her?’ he demanded later that day after nearly breaking down his door.

Erik leant back in his chair. ‘That, I’m sorry to say, is confidential.’

Charles took a breath. ‘If you ever…’

Erik smirked. ‘Tell her the truth? She’s a big girl, Charles, she can take it.’

Charles shook his head. ‘You have to go easy on Raven,’ he said, his forehead set in a deep frown. ‘I know she looks tough, but – ’

‘I’m not her parent, Charles,’ Erik interjected. ‘If you’re worried about her mental state, you can direct her to the appropriate services.’

Charles stared at him. ‘She warned me, you know,’ he scoffed at him, ‘she’d told me you’re an asshole before we ever really spoke.’

Erik was momentarily distracted by his lovely pout, but he pulled himself together. ‘That’s nothing if not astute,’ he said. ‘Now, are tomorrow’s handouts ready yet?’

Truth be told, Charles’ attitude had been getting on his nerves. Even after several weeks, he was withdrawn and morose; these days, Erik was lucky to get more than three words out of him. By the look of it, he spent much of his free time drinking. Most days he didn’t bother to shave.

There was a time that Erik might have pitied him, but those days were long past. If this was how Charles reacted to the slightest whiff of misfortune, he deserved all he got.

Yet he did not dwell on it for long. After months of hardly any output, his new book was finally taking shape. He filled his days corresponding with colleagues, having lunch with his publisher or editing proofs. On weekends, he went for runs in Central Park and re-immersed himself in krav maga. In a fit of nostalgia, he’d even attended _shul_.

Charles was a constant, if silent, presence in his life, and on most days he felt content.

Other days, he was in agony.

Sometimes,  Charles’ ghost was everywhere. Erik felt as if he had been marked; as if Charles’ touch had melted into his skin. He craved it like a drug, yet he couldn’t bring himself to take it.

It had not felt too different at the start, when he had wondered if he should try to seduce ‘that Xavier boy’. But aside from other matters, it would have cost him too much in leverage. And at that time, of course, he had not expected his wishes to change.

And not a lot of them had: he still dreamt of Charles’ body, writhing with both bliss and pain; he could still get off by imagining the sound of Charles’ voice as he softly begged for more. But he also wanted Charles’ hands, his lips, his tongue on his own chest, claiming _him_ ; he even wanted to feel Charles inside.

It was something Charles would never give. Something Erik couldn't take.

In his nightmares, Charles would leave. Yet some cruel god must have bound the boy to him, for Charles seemed both unwilling to stay and unable to go. It was a sweet and perverse torture, and as the weeks continued, Erik started wishing for someone to break the spell.

Then Charles got a call from England.

It was late at night when he came to him, and for once, Erik had felt mostly annoyed. Today, he wanted nothing more than a baseball game and a Bitburger, and felt little patience for the sense of frustration Charles now always left him with. Yet here Charles was, looking better than he’d had in weeks. His clothes were tidy, his eyes were bright and he seemed to have remembered how to use his razor. But he also seemed unable to stop biting his lips.

Erik watched him for a few seconds before pointing at the chair. ‘Sit down, then. What can I do for you?’

Charles cleared his throat. ‘Does the name ‘professor Grey’ ring any bells?’

‘Jean?’ Erik shrugged. ‘Of course. Cambridge, isn’t it?’

‘Oxford,’ Charles said. He looked away for a moment. ‘What do you think of her?’

‘She’s a bit esoteric for my tastes,’ Erik said after a moment’s pause. ‘But she’s certainly competent.’ He looked at Charles. ‘Why? Does she want something from me?’

‘Actually,’ Charles said, ‘she called about my article. The one in the _Quarterly.’_

‘The one you neglected to tell me about?’

Charles looked away. Erik sighed. ‘If only you’d have let me proofread it, that nasty mix-up could have been avoided…’

‘It’s not about that,’ he snapped. Then, after calming himself: ‘She said she’s organising a conference. She wants me to speak.’

Erik was silent for a moment. ‘That is big news.’ He reached for his calendar. ‘You can have the time off, of course…’

‘Professor.’ Charles looked him straight in the eyes. ‘I’ve never spoken to anything more than a classroom. I don’t even have my Master’s degree yet.’

Erik smiled. ‘Those presentations serve a purpose, Charles. To prepare you for scenarios like this.’

Charles looked pained. ‘I can’t do it,’ he said softly.

Erik swallowed. ‘I told you I haven’t the time. After the book launch – ’

Charles closed his eyes. ‘Please,’ he said. ‘Don’t do this to me, Erik.’

Erik snapped up his head. ‘What did you say?’

Charles stood up. ‘I’ll give you what you want,’ he whispered. He walked round the desk, then softly put his hand on Erik's lips. ‘Do you mind if I…?’

Erik barely had the strength to nod. Charles touched his cheek, then bent down and kissed him; his lips brushing Erik with the softest of touches. Then he sat down on Erik’s lap, took his face between his hands and kissed him once more, pressing himself tightly against his chest.

Erik felt overcome by sensations he had no concept of. He felt tears come to his eyes as Charles slowly explored his mouth with his tongue. ‘Do you like that?’ he whispered, pulling back a fraction.

‘Yes,’ Erik panted. Charles smiled and softly pushed him back in his chair. ‘What else do you like?’

Erik suddenly realised he had no answer to that. ‘More,’ he just brought out. But as Charles bent over again he felt something inside him recoil. Charles’ hands were so soft. Mama’s hands had been soft…

‘Stop,’ he said, biting back tears. When Charles pulled back he said: ‘How… how about Miss MacTaggart?’

Charles flinched. ‘Moira and I are on a break,’ he said finally. He bent over again. ‘Relax, Erik…’

‘No,’ Erik said. He pushed Charles away just a little. ‘No need for the hard sell. I’ll help you.’

Charles pulled back immediately. ‘At your house, I presume?’

Erik shook his head. ‘No need. We can meet here. I… I need my rest. Busy times.’

The relief on Charles’ face was painful to see, but he quickly composed himself. ‘I understand.’ Then, as on impulse, he grabbed both Erik's hands. ‘Thank you, Erik.’ He stood up and gave him a dazzling smile. ’I’ll see you tomorrow!’

When he’d left, Erik stared at the door for a long time.

Charles hadn’t been happy to see him in _years_.


	4. The Eye of the Storm

When the plane left the ground, Charles let out a sigh so deep his whole body shuddered. Raven looked at him. ‘Are you OK?’

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Yes, I’m good.’ Then he smiled. ‘I’m great, actually.’

She raised her eyebrows. ‘You don’t look great.’

He pulled her close and kissed the side of her head. ‘I’m making you look good, though, aren’t I?’

She elbowed his ribs. ‘You’re a jerk.’ But she snuggled back up to him, and he held on to her, allowing himself to get lost in her familiarity and warmth. Then he leant back in his chair and closed his eyes.

He’d made it. He was going to Oxford. He was getting out.

He let out another shuddering breath. He didn’t want to think about what it had cost him to get here, but it was hard not to: his body was still adjusting to the odd freedom of being only his to command. Still, the strong feeling of purpose and hope had not left him. It was getting stronger by the minute.

Oxford.

The name had kindled something in him. Whatever else had happened, whatever he’d become, he’d been someone in England. Could be someone again.

Raven touched his arm. ‘Promise me you’ll have some fun while we’re in Blighty,’ she said. ‘I think you overdid it this term, Charles.’

He groaned. ‘Please don’t, Raven.’ He didn’t want to think about what he’d done.

Raven frowned. ‘You’re killing yourself working,’ she said. ‘Why? Even Lehnsherr thinks you’re good, and you know what he’s like.’

Charles felt all the blood drain from his face. Raven sat up. ‘Charles?’

‘Airsick,’ he mumbled. ‘Need the loo.’ As quickly as he could, he got himself to a toilet and sat down. Then he buried his face in his hands.

 _Even Lehnsherr thinks you’re good._ He bit down on his fist to prevent himself from bursting into hysterical laughter. Oh, yes. Lehnsherr thought Charles was very good. He’d done - _let_ himself do – things he could hardly admit to himself, even in the very beginning. He’d never had the slightest inclination to learn how to jerk off anyone but himself, after all, much less do it _efficiently_. He didn’t want to know the feeling of another man’s stubble against his chin, or how to only focus on his _own_ tongue in someone’s mouth, lest he pull back in revulsion; how to instead lick, suck and nibble so the other’s breath would quicken and he could get him to move along faster _._ He didn’t want to know exactly when the clenching of a man’s muscles meant he had to pull back and finish the job with his hands. He did not want to know!  

But worse than knowing was not knowing. What name he’d be screaming when he came. How to slow his pulse and stop himself from shaking, stop making those filthy little sounds that to any impartial ear could only be described as _wanton._ Stop his cock from responding on its own accord when Lehnsherr prepped him, stop moaning when he pushed into him, pinching his nipples and telling him he was doing _so well_.

Because he wanted to do well. God forgive him, he wanted to do well so very badly. One nod from Lehnsherr meant more than… than…

Charles closed his eyes. A nod from Lehnsherr meant _everything_. One raised eyebrow, one change in inflection, and Charles was rapt with attention. Every movement, every look could make him snap up, jump, _notice_.

And yet. Lehnsherr had shown him more about himself than he ever thought possible, half of which he had not wanted to learn. But he had won this invitation on his own merits, even if the decision to submit that article without Lehnsherr’s approval had robbed him of several nights of sleep. It had cost him in other ways, too – he would have never normally dared to get so cocky about Nietzsche – but the fact remained that it _had_ been accepted, and he was on his way to Oxford because of it.

(Granted, he had asked Lehnsherr to help him after – he wasn’t mad, he could never pull this off by himself – but he was here now, and that was something to hold on to.)

He opened the door and quickly walked back to Raven.

She winked at him. ‘Better?’

‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Loads.’ He fell down on his chair and turned to his sister. ‘I can’t believe you’ve never been to England before.’

Raven looked down. ‘You can thank Marko for that. Underground bunkers don’t pay for themselves.’

He winced, then touched her hand. ‘You should have asked again. I would have helped you. I’ve managed to convince him before…’

She gave him a wry smile. ‘I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.’ Then she chuckled. ‘Besides, what would I have said? “Please, sir, will you help me put an ocean between myself and that godawful _punim_ of yours?” ’

Charles sat up. ' _Punim_?'

Raven blushed. ‘I’ve lived in New York a long time, Charles.’ When he didn’t look away, she said, ‘OK, professor Lehnsherr said it. I thought it sounded funny.’

Charles frowned. ‘Why are you still talking to him?’

She sighed. ‘Look, I don’t expect you to understand.’

‘ _Try_ me.’

Raven shrugged. ‘He just gets it, Charles. About Marko. And before.’

Charles looked away. ‘You know you can talk to me about Marko,’ he said in a soft voice. ‘I grew up with him too.’

Raven squeezed his hand in a way that let him know that was never going to happen.

Charles looked at her. If only she knew.

He’d always understood his sister, but now he knew her in ways she didn’t quite expect. The way she was always scanning her surroundings, or the fact that you should never sneak up on her – he’d felt that way too.

But to tell her why…

‘Just - be careful,’ he said lamely. ‘Promise me, Raven.’

She smiled. ‘Scout’s honor.’ Then she reached over and smoothed his hair out of his face. ‘Why don’t you get some sleep? I’ll wake you when the drink cart shows up.’

‘I told you – ’

‘With tea,’ she said. ‘Assam. Darjeeling. Breakfast.’

‘Thank God,’ he murmured. ‘I’m sick of Earl Grey.’

*

On their first day in London, they spent 45 minutes queuing at the station, drank –and this they agreed on – the worst cup of coffee they had ever tasted and almost landed themselves in the hospital (Charles slipped while pushing Raven away from an approaching bus). The weather was clammy for April, and the day ended with a thunderstorm that left them drenched.

Charles loved every second.

At breakfast the following day, he almost wept when he saw the fresh crumpets. He still didn’t care much for Weetabix, though.

(Raven was fascinated. ‘Is this _food_?’)

Raven refused to leave London before Charles had bought her a bowler hat (‘We’ll just tell them it’s for you’) and, much to Charles’ embarrassment, insisted on calling everyone ‘love’.

But when they arrived in Oxford, she fell quiet. She kept looking around, checking every angle, soaking up the atmosphere. When they arrived at the University, she nodded at him.

‘This is good,’ she said. ‘Cozy.’

Charles smiled. ‘Cozy’ meant safe.

‘What would you think about crossing the pond permanently?’ he said. ‘We could get a flat, you could find a major…’

She laughed. ‘I’d be more worried about impressing professor Grey right now.’

Luckily, professor Grey made them both feel extremely welcome, and within minutes had engaged them deeply in conversation. Even Raven found some enthusiasm for her old subject, and when they left, all Charles’ anxieties had melted away.

‘You’re in love,’ Raven giggled as they went in for a pint, but Charles shook his head. What he felt was a great admiration. Professor Grey had the same intensity as Lehnsherr, but was much less confrontational. She could challenge him, he knew that, but somehow did it without scaring him to death.

He let his thoughts wander. Earn a Master’s, then a PhD. Move here, or possibly Cambridge. Teach, work on his thesis. Patch things up with Moira. Become Charles Francis Xavier, professor of psychology…

Raven waved at him. ‘Charles? Hello? I think we should go to the hotel. You have a big day tomorrow.’

*

Charles woke up drenched in sweat. He could still feel his skin prickling after standing in front of a packed auditorium, row after row of tense, disapproving faces staring down at him. Then professor Grey informed him that the language had been changed to German, as the only one asking questions during the discussion round would be professor Lehnsherr…

 _Breathe, Charles._ It was normal to be feeling guilty. Lehnsherr’s book launch was tomorrow, and by all intents and purposes, he should have been there helping him.

But Lehnsherr himself had given him permission to come here instead…

He looked at his alarm clock. 6 AM. He grunted and buried his face in his pillow. He should be trying to sleep in. That was the ruddy point of speaking after lunch. The thought of suffering through seven long hours of anticipation terrified him.

Maybe he should do a tour of the colleges with Raven. She really ought to pick up her studies again, if only to stop Marko’s gloating. Marko had always said Raven should aspire to nothing more than waitressing, and she was proving the bastard right.

And then there was Lehnsherr. Raven insisted he’d had nothing to do with it, but she’d never even mentioned quitting before taking his class. And it was exactly what Erik would do. He didn’t believe in broadening people’s mind for the sake of it. Either you were there for a doctorate, or you were not worth his time.

Unless, of course, your name was Charles Xavier…

He got up. Not today. He was in England. He was going to have offal meat for breakfast to prove it.

But after he’d finished showering and shaving, Raven had woken up and was shaking her head at the clothes he’d laid out for himself. ‘Seriously, Charles. Tweed?’

‘It’s traditional,’ he scoffed, but Raven was having none of it. She got ready more quickly than ever before and then dragged him out to the market.

They spent the morning putting on so many silly hats that by the time he got back to the hotel to change (no tweed, though Raven did allow him to wear a good shirt and jacket), he’d again forgotten that he’d ever been nervous at all. The conference room at the college turned out to be nothing but charming, and after professor Grey’s glowing introduction, Charles had never felt more at home. Beaming, he lit up his first slide.

A door creaked near the back of the room.

No matter. It was flattering, really, that somebody was interested enough to sneak in.

He knew that silhouette.

That was called 'being ridiculous'.

But it was something he would do. Lehnsherr was creepily good at sneaking around, keeping tabs and turning up at places he was not supposed to be.

His voice faltered.

‘Charles? Is something wrong?’ Professor Grey took a few steps toward him.

He looked at her and felt his back straighten. ‘No.’ His eyes flit to Raven, who nodded at him. ‘No, I’m fine.’ Then he smiled. ‘My apologies, ladies and gentlemen. As I was saying, these theories are far from controversial…’

It was an incredible feeling. Playing the room, placing jokes, bouncing questions. He could feel them reflect his own energy back upon him; felt himself dodging pitfalls and scoring points. He’d never been this relaxed or this concentrated.

When the session ended, the air filled with hearty, good-willing applause.

He wanted to roar. Instead he hugged Raven, who’d jumped into his arms.

‘I’m so proud of you!’

He untangled himself reluctantly to smile at professor Grey, who offered him a bottle of wine. ‘Well done, Charles,’ she said. ‘Thank you so very much for coming.’

‘The pleasure is all mine,’ he said, before turning to professor Grey’s colleagues, who’d all come to nod benignly at this bright new voice. He was just starting a conversation with a young dr. Munroe when he heard a voice, not two feet away:

‘Perfection.’

Every hair at the back of his neck stood on end.

This wasn’t happening. It could not be. There was no w-

‘Professor Lehnsherr!’

It was instinct. At the sound of Raven’s voice he turned around, pulled her to him and wrapped his arms around her from behind. Then he stared into Lehnsherr’s eyes.

_Back off._

One moment, all he saw was confusion. But then Erik narrowed his eyes.

Raven gave him an exasperated look. ‘Charles!’

The smallest hint of a smile curled around Lehnsherr’s lips. Still, Charles only let go when Raven literally pushed him off.

‘What’s wrong with you?’

She walked over to Erik. ‘Professor, what are you doing here? What about your book launch?’

He smiled at her. ‘Long story.’ Then he looked up, stretched out his arms and walked towards professor Grey.

‘Jean!’

She smiled brightly and leant in to kiss him on the cheek. ‘Erik! I’d no idea you were coming!’

‘It was a last minute decision,’ he said. ‘I couldn’t miss the triumph of my student here.’

She blinked. ‘He’s one of yours?’

Erik nodded. ‘Oh, yes.’

‘Well, he’s certainly a credit to you,’ she said. ‘That was truly exceptional, Charles.’

Erik looked at him, and he swallowed. ‘Thank you, professor Grey.’ He took a step back. ‘If you’ll excuse me for a moment…’

‘Not so fast.’

Charles jerked. Lehnsherr was still smiling at him.

‘I want to make you an offer, Charles.’

_Dear God, not again._

Both Raven and professor Grey were looking at them expectantly.

Charles swallowed once more. ‘What kind of offer?’

Lehnsherr turned to Grey. ‘You know, of course, that a good assistant can make or break a publication,’ he said, winking. ‘Charles’ work has been invaluable to me.’

Grey raised her eyebrows. ‘There’s few among us who admit that so openly.’

‘I’m no coward,’ Lehnsherr said. He looked at Charles.

‘On my next publication, I want you to have full credit.’ He waited one moment before he added: ‘I’d like you to be my co-author.’

Raven squealed. ‘O my God!’

Even professor Grey looked mildly stunned.

‘That is a great honor indeed, Charles.’

Erik looked at him. ‘So what do you say?’

Charles’ mouth was dry. ‘I’m… overwhelmed. Can I think about it for a while?’

‘What’s there to think about?’ Raven said. ‘Professor, that is amazing! Thank you so much!’

But Lehnsherr smiled magnanimously. ‘Of course you should think about it. Why don’t we meet at my house next week to discuss the idea further?’

Charles felt a knot twist in his stomach, but pulled back his shoulders. ‘Yes. Of course.’ He bit his lip. ‘I’d be happy to.’

‘That’s settled then.’ He looked at Raven. ‘You will remind him for me, won’t you? Charles can be a bit of a scatterbrain at times.’

She nodded happily. Then he smiled at professor Grey.

‘You’ll forgive me for leaving, Jean? I’m a little jetlagged.’

‘Of course,’ she said. ‘If you promise to have dinner with me tomorrow.’

He bowed. ‘Always.’ Then he nodded. ‘Congratulations again, Charles.’

He didn’t get the chance to reply because Raven had again pulled him into an enormous hug. ‘You are getting so drunk tonight,’ she whispered.

Charles didn’t answer, but kept following Erik as he walked away. At the exit, the older man briefly turned around.

His eyes were glistening with tears.

For one second, Charles considered going after him. But then he hugged Raven closer and buried his face into her hair.

‘Yes,’ he finally answered her. ‘I rather think I am.’

 

 


	5. Tempest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: I've added new tags, for assault, past sexual abuse, non-consensual bondage and threats of rape among other things. Proceed with caution, and please drop me a line should you feel I've left anything out. 
> 
> German is again at the end.

When he straightened his tie for the third time in one minute, it could no longer be denied.

He was fidgeting.

_Reg dich ab, Erik!_

No need to lose his composure. There might have been some mistake. Oxford could have been a one off, a fluke.

Still, those neckties were a menace…

Enough now. There was no reason for Charles not the be enthusiastic, now he’d gotten used to the idea. His co-author, at 22 – Emma Frost would have fucked her way through half the faculty for that.

But he knew what they said about getting your hopes up. When he opened his front door, Charles looked tense, drawn, and acutely miserable.

Erik frowned. ‘Get in,’ he said, locking the door behind him. He took Charles’ things, put them away and followed him to the living room. There he walked straight to his drinks cabinet and poured himself whiskey. He signaled for Charles to sit down on the couch, knocked back his liquor and turned back around.

‘Explain.’

‘Explain what, Professor?’

‘Don’t “professor” me!’

Charles said nothing. Erik leant back.

‘Explain to me why, when I visited you in Oxford, you treated me as a less than welcome guest.’

Charles swallowed. ‘I was surprised.’

‘So was your sister. Yet it didn’t seem to worry her at all.’

That steely look reappeared, like clockwork – honestly, Charles would be insanely easy to extort.

‘Leave her out of this.’

‘But you didn’t leave her out of this.’ Erik took a step closer. ‘Tell me, Charles – what did you think I’d _do_?’

Charles turned white, yet sat up straighter. ‘I don’t know. I never know what you will do.’

Another step closer and again Charles recoiled, _gottverdammt,_ he recoiled, while two weeks ago it had been smiles, and “thank you’s”, caresses and kisses and hugs -

But then he’d been _needed -_

Erik looked down on him. ‘You fear me then, Charles?’

Charles huffed. ‘Do you expect me to answer that?’

That was answer enough, and it was brutal. Erik sucked in a breath.

‘Yes!’

Charles looked up at him, his jaw set, defiant. ‘Where would you like me to start?’

Erik frowned. ‘I have never made you do anything you did not want to do.’

Charles’ eyes widened. ‘Erik – if you believe that – ’

‘I know it.’ He laughed. ‘You fear me now, Charles? You don’t even know what to fear.’

He saw Charles’ eyes dart towards the door, and before he’d even realised it himself, he was upon him, pushing Charles’ face down into the cushions and twisting his arms around his back. ‘One final lesson, Mr. Xavier,’ he growled as Charles let out a startled moan. ‘The only way to beat fear is to face it.’ He paused. ‘Though, perhaps, in this case…’

He smiled. He’d always known his penchant for large pocket squares would come in handy one day. 22 square inches of silk cloth was not at all excessive, not when it was about to be wrapped around Charles’ face.

But first, the basics.

‘No!’ Charles yelled as Erik tore the damn tie from his neck and started twisting the silk around his wrists.

‘Patience, Charles,’ he said, boring his knee into the small of his back. ‘I promise this won’t hurt.’

Charles damn near threw him off, though, so he took care to tie the knot before reaching for his breast pocket. When Charles still wouldn’t stop thrashing, he grudgingly applied a little pressure to his wind pipe.

‘Hold still.’

Charles froze, giving Erik time to take out the fabric. But as he saw what was happening, Charles tried to turn around.

‘Don’t do this, Erik!’

Erik smiled. ‘Like I said - this won’t hurt.’ Well, maybe a little – it was a tight fit around that thick, beautiful head of hair, but that couldn’t be helped.

He took a step back to admire his handiwork. ‘By God, Charles, you’re a vision.’  

He took off his jacket. Charles flinched at the sound. So skittish! Erik knelt down beside him and put a hand on his hair.

‘No,’ Charles brought out. ‘Please, Erik, no.’

Erik smiled. ‘Begging already?’ He brought his face close to Charles ear. ‘Oh, the things I could have done to make you beg.’

Charles started to shiver. ‘Please, Erik…’

Erik felt his smile grow wider. ‘A little sensory deprivation always goes a long way,’ he purred. ‘But it’s mostly the isolation that does it. Apart from the hunger, of course.’

Charles said nothing. He lay there, trembling, his face little more than a grimace.

‘I mean it,’ Erik said. ‘A couple of days without contact, and you’d beg for anything from me. You would suck me and fuck me and lick me clean. I could come all over you and you’d thank me, Charles, just so you wouldn’t be alone. So you wouldn’t have to face the dark.’

God, that ass – lesser men than him would have long have stripped it bare by now. But this wasn’t about him.

Still, there was no reason not to indulge himself a little bit.

‘Imagine, Charles,’ he whispered. ‘Less than a week until you’d lift that pretty little ass and beg me to rape you. And I would, Charles. Because you asked me. I’d slick you up with your own cum and then you’d be my fuck toy, Charles, my pretty little rent boy. I’d fuck you blind and make you scream and you would call me ‘sir’.’

Charles breathing was ragged. He was shaking so much he almost spasmed.

‘Or your little sister,’ Erik said, stroking his neck. ‘I could do much worse to her. If I’d bend her over and screw her like some slut she wouldn’t even protest, Charles. I could have her on her knees while two men fuck her face and she’d be begging me to love her.’

Charles hissed. ‘You…’

He laughed. ‘No, Charles, not yet. Though it would be the easiest thing in the world, after all the times your stepfather had his way with her.’

Charles shook. ‘That’s not –’

‘Of course it’s true. And I doubt he was the only one.’ He straightened up. ‘I could fuck her till she was blue in the face and she would thank me. It's no more than she expects. But I haven’t, Charles. Because of you.’

He tenderly pulled Charles upright. ‘I don’t want to hurt you, silly boy. When will you finally grasp that? I want you by my side…’

Charles screamed.

And he _kept_ screaming, even when Erik removed the blindfold and untied his hands. He merely stumbled away and fell to his knees, taking deep, raggedy breaths, screaming enough to make his very throat bleed.

Erik took him in his arms to no avail; Charles merely fought to get away. Finally he lay down, exhausted, and curled himself into a very tight ball. It was only then Erik managed to wrap him in a blanket, pick him up and lay him on his bed.

Charles reacted to none of it.

Erik ran to his phone, but before he had started dialing the second 1, he dropped the receiver. The hospital would ask too many questions – he wasn’t sure he could evade those right now. Raven, too might be too shocked to be useful.

Which left Moira.

He’d cursed that name repeatedly – Charles had never stopped calling for her – but of course he had kept her details, even after she’d moved house.

Not thirty seconds later, he heard her voice.

‘Miss MacTaggert? This is professor Lehnsherr. I’m calling about Charles Xa –’

‘Is it happening again?’

No time to waste clarifying, so he simply answered: ‘Yes.’

She needed some convincing – she kept urging him to call an ambulance – but in the end she agreed to come over. He didn’t wait for her to give her address; instead, he called a taxi company and promised them an outrageous tip if they could get Moira here within ten minutes.

Then he went to check on Charles.

He had expected anger, of course. But Charles did not even look at him, apart from a single glance to the bedroom door.

He stood there for a moment, silent, before he turned away. He spent the next few minutes straightening the couch, clearing away the whiskey and putting his clothes back in order. He let out a sigh, then sped to his door when he heard the doorbell ring.

‘I’ve had to put Charles in my bedroom,’ he told Moira by way of greeting.

Moira didn’t come in. ‘The – uh – the cab driver seems to want a hell of a lot of money…’

He nodded. ‘I’ll handle him.’ He ran down, handed the taxi driver a fifty, and had almost run back up before he said: ‘Wait! I need you to drive someone to hospital.’

The man grunted. ‘I’m not getting blood on my seats, mister!’

Erik grabbed his collar. ‘Then I’d better shut up if I were you.’ He checked the man’s name tag. ‘The hospital, Gary. And one more thing – I’d love to come find you if you take off before I’m back.’ Then he rushed back up.

‘The taxi’s waiting,’ he said, storming back into his living room, ‘I -’

He stopped. Through a crack in the door, he saw Charles, his face pressed to Moira’s shoulder. She was stroking his back, making soothing sounds and pressing soft kisses on the top of his head.

‘I’m sorry,’ Charles choked. ‘Moira, I’m so sorry…’

She kissed him, and Erik couldn’t watch anymore. Part of him wanted to go in and wring her annoying little neck, but Charles was more important.

Charles would always be more important.

He cleared his throat. ‘Miss MacTaggert. You wanted to go to the hospital…’

They looked up. He saw Charles stiffen, but Moira smiled at him. ‘Yes,’ she said. Then she helped Charles up. ‘Come with me, sweetheart…’  

Erik turned around and frantically went in search of Charles’ coat and bag. When Charles and Moira came out of his room, he held them out to him.

‘These are yours.’

Charles said nothing. He tightened his grip on Moira’s hand and angled his body so that it was partly obscuring hers. Only then he took his things.

Moira looked askance. ‘Let’s go.’ She frowned at him, then nodded. ‘Goodnight, Professor.’

Erik watched as Charles walked down, arms tightly wrapped around Moira’s midriff. From the window, Erik saw them get into the taxi, which drove away at an unnaturally fast speed.

Then he crashed.

He sobbed harder than he’d had in his life, for Mama, for Papa, even for Ruthi. He banged his head against the wall and bashed the stone until he bled; finally he let himself fall down and wept, wept until his throat was raw and no more tears were coming.

He reached for his bottle then, hoping for oblivion. Instead, he found himself behind his desk, searching for some paper. He watched the words come in a haze, but kept typing, the little bell of the machine punctuating every single thought.

_Dear Mr. Xavier,_

_I am, naturally, sorry to hear about your decision to give up your position as my assistant, yet happy to provide any reference required. Enclosed, please find the requested letters of recommendation._

_I want to thank you for your dedication and wish you the best of luck in your further career._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Professor E.M. Lehnsherr_

 

Erik took his best pen and signed his name with a flourish.

His right hand had hardly been shaking at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Reg dich ab_ Calm down, chill. 
> 
> _gottverdammt_ : Goddamn(ed).
> 
>  _Ruthi_ : The spelling "Ruthie" likely exists, too, but is far less common in the German speaking world.


	6. Valediction

As he rounded the familiar hall, he felt his throat go dry.

_The only way to get rid of fear is facing it._

Banal, true, annoying.

His.

Not so much the lesson itself – Erik certainly couldn’t claim ownership of that little piece of wisdom – but the words would stay connected with him from now on.

Like so much in Charles’ life.

He hadn’t thought that would happen, to be honest. The first sense of relief had been too overwhelming. The joy, all-encompassing.

Except for the lack.

It had been there before, in Charles’ life, ever since his father died. And he wouldn’t consciously have tried to fill it – Marko had already shown him all the good that was likely to come of that – yet Lehnsherr had, he fit right in, and not to have him anymore…

 _Grow up, Charles,_ he thought angrily. _All there is is Erik._

Yes. Erik. Pervert Erik. Rapist Erik. Brilliant, dangerous, electrifying Erik.

He pressed his nails into his palms. Stupid Stockholm crap! This had gone on far too long, and he would be free of it!

One more corner. He took a breath. He’d do this. Come what may.

He rounded the corner, and –

‘Moira?’

She looked up from her book and rose to meet him. ‘Hello, Charles.’

He couldn’t help but stutter. ‘What are you doing here?’

She gave him a half smile. ‘I know you a little, don’t I?’

His breathing quickened. ‘You shouldn’t,’ he whispered. ‘If he sees…’

She took his hands. ‘Calm down, Charles. I have every right to be here, same as anyone.’

He looked past her, into the room, where Lehnsherr’s assistant’s desk was once again empty. Which wasn’t surprising, at six thirty pm.

‘This is a bad idea,’ he said.

Moira raised her eyebrows. ‘You don’t say.’ He opened his mouth, but she shook her head at him.

‘Charles. I won’t stop you from doing this, but I’m not letting you send me away again, either. Whatever happens, I’m staying close by.’

He sighed. ‘Moira, you’re not – ’

They both whipped around as the office door behind them was yanked open. ‘Do you mind? This isn’t a –’

They stared at each other. ‘Charles?’ the professor said softly, but almost immediately tilted his head back.

‘Well. This is a surprise.’

Charles turned to face him fully. ‘I’d like a word, Erik.’

Erik shrugged. ‘Do you have an appointment?’

‘Don’t you dare.’ He kissed Moira on the cheek. ‘I’ll need thirty minutes, love, if you’d wait that long.’ Then he walked past Erik, who’d opened the door further.

The office hadn’t changed at all. Yet Erik looked far more than six months older. He gestured at the chair with a weary shrug.

‘I’ll stand, thank you.’

Erik shrugged again. ‘Suit yourself.’ He sat down behind the desk and crossed his arms. ‘What do you want, then?’

Charles sighed. ‘I want to talk about Raven.’

Erik snorted. ‘It took you long enough.’ When Charles didn’t reply, he went on: ‘Well, Charles? Raven isn’t my student. Neither is she your pet.’

Charles smirked. ‘You can stop trying to defend yourself, Erik. I’m not here to threaten you.’

Erik raised his eyebrows. ‘Really.’

He sighed. ‘I’m not going to drive Raven into your arms by trying to keep her away from you. And as for me…’ He looked away. ‘Well, you’re still here, aren’t you?’

Erik’s gaze sought his, and this time, he didn’t want to turn away. ‘What you did,’ he said. ‘Whether you know it or not… some of it was beautiful.’

Erik stood up. ‘You’ve never said that before.’

‘That’s because most of it was vile.’ He snorted. ‘I wish I had no idea what you were telling yourself at the time, Erik, but unfortunately I do, and I want you to know that it is dangerously misguided.’

Erik was looking at him intently. ‘Yet here you are.’

Charles looked back. ‘Because I know who you could be,’ he said. ‘If you show Raven even half the dedication you showed me, I know she will be much better for it.’

‘It’s not her I want,’ Erik said softly.

Charles narrowed his eyes. ‘That’s not what she says.’

Erik smiled. ‘Oh, I enjoy our time together. It’s unusual to find a woman with the street smarts of a gangster and the bearing of a debutante.’

Charles gritted his teeth. ‘I don’t want to hear this.’

Erik smirked. ‘Then don’t ask.’

Charles sighed. ‘You two are very much alike. Always putting up walls.’ He looked Erik in the eye. ‘But I’d have never come as far as I have if there wasn't more to you. You’re a good man, Erik. If you let yourself.’

‘Charles…’ Erik’s voice broke. ‘I did it for you. Always for you.’

Charles shook his head. ‘That’s what you want to think.’ He walked over to the desk. ‘You do care about people, Erik. It’s impossible to teach if you don’t. I’m merely asking you show my sister the same care you’ve shown me.’

Erik leant forward. ‘And what’s in it for me?’ He grasped Charles’s hands. ‘I don’t give out freebies, Charles.’

Charles narrowed his eyes. ‘Don't touch me!’

Erik tightened his grip. ‘Come back, Charles,' he whispered. 'My offer still stands.’

Charles blinked. ‘You know that’s an insane proposition.’

‘Is it?’ Erik said. ‘We’re good together. You’ve said so yourself.’ He leant in closer. ‘I don’t want anything from you, Charles. Not this time. Just… be there...’

The look in his eyes made Charles tear up. 'You poor, poor man.' He took advantage of Erik’s momentary distraction to pull himself loose, but didn’t move away.

Erik frowned. ‘I mean it! I will be far better for Raven than anyone else she is likely to fall for.’

Charles froze. He remembered the look on Raven’s face when she’d confessed to him, first stoically, but soon racked by sobs, that Marko had hardly been her first; that she’d been terrified that he'd send her away, because Dad had never had the chance to adopt her, and Mum had never brought it up again.

And here Erik was, willing to use her as _collateral…_

‘Listen to me,’ he hissed. ‘If I so much as suspect Raven is unhappy, I will stop at nothing, is that clear? Forget jail, I’ll arrange for an accident during your deportation.’

Erik smiled. ‘I thought you weren’t here to threaten me.’

‘The same goes for Moira.’

 Erik scoffed. ‘What would I want with her?'

‘She’d love an excuse to come after you.’ At Erik’s condescending smirk, he said: ‘Quite an inquisitive family, the MacTaggerts. CIA and MI6, they say, although she’s not at liberty to confirm that.’

They were silent for a moment. Then Erik coughed. ‘So I was right.’

‘About what?’

‘I never made you do anything you did not want to do.’

Charles gasped for breath. _Not true, not true at all_ – but as he looked at Erik, he didn’t know what to think, because here he was again, and Erik was so close, and he could feel his blood pumping in spite of himself as Erik reached over to cup his face –

There was a knock on the door. ‘Charles? Are you OK in there?’

The flash of hatred in Erik’s eyes – it was enough to break any pull he might have felt. He turned around brusquely, walked away and opened the door.

Moira looked tense. ‘Is everything alright? Were you fighting?’

‘I’m fine, love,’ he said. ‘Five more minutes, yes?’

‘Four,’ Moira snapped.

He smiled. ‘Ma’am.’

He closed the door and turned back to Erik.

‘What I’ve been wanting to tell you. Moira and I are moving to Europe.’ When Erik didn’t reply, he said. ‘I trust you won’t follow us there.’

Erik laughed. ‘You can’t have me banned from Oxford, Charles.’

They were, in fact, going to St. Andrews, but Charles didn’t feel like pointing that out. ‘You’re sure about that?’

Erik lifted his chin. ‘And what about Raven? How are you planning to monitor her from over there?’

‘That's none of your business.’

(Raven knew about the emergency accounts he’d set up in her name, but didn’t know he’d gotten Moira’s father to keep an eye on her. Best she didn’t find out about that at all, least of all from Erik.)

Erik sat down. ‘Go then. Your chaperone is waiting.’ He was trying very hard to avoid eye contact.

Charles swallowed. ‘Goodbye, Erik.’ He reached for the door, but then took a few steps back towards him.

‘I want you to know- we could have been friends. Colleagues. Co-authors.’ His mouth twisted. ‘In a different life.’

Erik’s head snapped up. ‘Charles-'

But Moira knocked again, and he walked back to let her in.

‘Are you ready?’ she said, with a quick glance at Lehnsherr.

‘Yes,’ he said. He squeezed her hand. ‘Let’s go.’

They didn't look back.

 

~Fin~


End file.
